Once and For All
by The Omniscient Bookseller
Summary: "There's a reason I don't call myself by that name anymore. Because Spot Conlon is dead." Many years later, who has Spot become? And more importantly, who has Jack become? Depressing, angsty, no slash. A bit of Jack bashing, though. ^_^


It's more likely that I'll be transported to Disney's version of 1899 and end up marrying Racetrack than it is that they'll sue me over this little thing. So why do I even bother? 

Spot Conlon is a legend. The name carries an aura of power. It makes you shiver, shrink away, or marvel openly. Spot Conlon, the leader of all Brooklyn. Spot Conlon, the man who could destroy you with one sweep of his hand. 

There is a reason I don't call myself by that name any longer. Because Spot Conlon is dead. Spot Conlon is a myth, something that strikes terror in your heart. Everyone knows Spot Conlon. No one would believe me if I claimed to be him. I'm a nobody. A disgusting, dirty man living on the streets. A thief. A beggar. I could never terrorize anyone with a single glance. Not like I used to. All my anger at the world, the urge to destroy, to remain who I was. The true patriotism of the lower class. Don't you see what it did to me?

I hate this life. I hate the person I've turned into. Believe me, I do. But it's not like I could've done anything. You grow up on the streets, you end up on the streets. You grow up lying and stealing and cheating, you end up lying and stealing and cheating. Y'know?

Maybe you don't. 

Because there's only a handful, only the tiniest amount of us who escape. Only a few who manage to get out of the trap of these streets. 

Jack the leader. Jack the amazing. Jack the confident. Jack the powerful. Jack the courageous. 

Jack the lucky.

You can never let them beat you, that's what you said. No, you wouldn't ever let that happen. No one could beat you, no one on this earth. Instead, you switched sides. You got out of here, Jack. You escaped from this place, like you'd always dreamed about. And you became one of them. You went against everything you'd ever said, everything you'd ever believed. You're someone you would've despised. But it's not like that now. I can see.

I would've realized before, but I was too distracted. Distracted by that bulge in your back pocket, the outline of a wallet. Distracted by the fact that hadn't eaten in a day and a half. Distracted by the fact that I was freezing to death. 

But even after all these years, I knew you. I could recognize it in the way your hand grabbed mine with the last of your street instincts. I knew the way you walked, the way you moved. I knew your self-assured manner, you harsh temper. I knew the color of your hair, your eyes, the shape of your face. And I knew that look you had. That look that said I will not be cheated. I will not be treated like nothing. That look that said I am myself and I'll make you know it. The same look you used to wear.

That was why my fingers fumbled. That was why I didn't twist out of your grasp, or run away. That was why I never moved until the police came up on either side.

I could see it in your face. The hatred of me, of all the scum of the street. The disgust. I could see that you had forgotten your beginnings, forgotten what you used to say. You had forgotten what it was like. But you hated being disgraced by this dirty, thieving bum. You hated how I could dare to do such a thing. 

So here I am, on a small pallet in the corner of this darkened room. Maybe I'll stay for a few days more before they decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth and kick me out. I'll enjoy it while I can. It's more food than I'm used to, and a roof over my head. You have to take advantage of everything if you're gonna survive like I do. 

But all that anger from when we were young, all that anger I thought had been killed by years of starvation and freezing and hopelessness, all that anger is resurfacing now. 

I don't think you ever realized how much it hurt us all when you left during the strike. When you betrayed us, when you turned your back to the people who'd always been your family. And this hurts so much more. Because this time, I know you're never coming back. 

Goodbye, you traitor. You scab. Goodbye, the lifeblood of us all, though you never knew it. Goodbye, Francis Jack Kelly Sullivan. Once and for all, goodbye. 


End file.
